


Your Ticket Out

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Physical Abuse, Pre Season 1, Supernatural - Freeform, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: Dean finds a way to get Sam out of the life, and Sam thinks of it as a way to give Dean the life he deserves, too. Pre-season 1.





	Your Ticket Out

**Author's Note:**

> This just popped into my head, and I needed to write it. I’m not a huge John Winchester fan, though I know he had his moments. This is not one of those moments.

**Dean**

Dean knew this was the beginning of the end.

He wasn’t surprised, not really. Deep down, he’s always hoped that maybe Sam would want to stick around, he’s _ached_ for it. They made an unstoppable team, even for as young as they were, and he often thought that that made up for their father dragging them around the country. He should have known, though, when Sam was more interested in school than learning about how to clean a gun or how to best handle a bow and arrow. They’re both smart, Dean knew that, but Sam…Sam was _book smart_. He could remember _everything_ , and Dean often asked him for help when it came to researching. Dean could do it, he didn’t even hate it as much as he let on, but Sam thrived on it. It seemed to be the only part that he really enjoyed, and it always made Dean happy when he would hand over whatever he was looking at to Sam and his face would light up. 

The thing was, Sam deserved more. Dean knew it, and Sam knew it, but John…well, Dean knew that John didn’t understand. He was so consumed by revenge, so sure that both sons felt the same fiery anger that he did, that he never stopped to think that maybe _neither_ of them deserved it. Dean wanted to believe that his father did his best, and he also wanted to believe that it wasn’t what he wanted for either of his sons. Dean was young, but he could see the damage that his father’s all consuming grief had done, the blindness that had come with it. John didn’t see two boys that deserved a simpler life; he saw two soldiers that seemed to be the means to an end. Dean sometimes felt guilty thinking that, but the thought had begun to cross his mind more and more.

And now here they were, sitting in a bar Sam shouldn’t have even been in, and Dean couldn’t help but smile when a girl walked over and started talking to Sam. Dean had somehow managed to get him in without question; they hadn’t even put the black X’s on his hands this time. He’d say the kid owed him, but he knew better than that. Sam could get anything he wanted as long as he flashed those patented puppy eyes of his. He could look the devil in the face and get a glass of ice water in hell, _that’s_ how good he was.

Well, _almost_ anything. The one thing he couldn’t get was their father’s signature on some paperwork he needed to get into school. Dean wasn’t even sure what it was for, probably some sort of financial aid, at least from what he gathered as the two screamed at each other back at the hotel. John had been adamant; they were _family_ , and family stuck together. Especially a family like theirs, with so much at stake. Of course Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut and made some comment about the death of their mother that made even Dean flinch, and John had immediately hit Sam across the face. Dean could see the bruise forming from his perch at the bar, despite how dark it was in there, and his heart ached.

He could see both sides of it. He didn’t want Sammy to leave, they _did_ have a job to do. Dean felt like they owed it to the world, a world that had no idea the dangers that threatened it. He figured with the knowledge that they had, it would be irresponsible to _not_ help. But, as he took a sip of whiskey and grimaced at the burn as it traveled down his throat and warmed his chest, he realized just how much like John Winchester that sounded. He guessed that wasn’t a bad thing, the intentions were good, but wasn’t that what the road to hell was paved with?

Dean did better in this world than Sam. It’s not that Sam _couldn’t_ do it, he was damn good at it. He was smart, and strong. But he was so _angry_ , and Dean knew that eventually that anger would turn into something else, if it hadn’t already. So, despite the fact that what he was considering would leave him on his own, trapped in a mission he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore, he made a decision.

He slipped a hand in his pocket and his fingers closed around a wrinkled envelope. He glanced at Sam, who was now standing incredibly close to the girl that had approached him a few minutes ago, then pulled it out and laid it on the bar top. He waved down the bartender; he was going to need some liquid encouragement. As the bartender fixed his drink, he pulled the folded papers from the envelope and laid them out, smoothed them to make it easier to write, and took a deep breath. The glass clinked in front of him and he looked up.

“You got a pen?”

* * *

**Sam**

The papers were signed.

He found them in his bag this morning when he’d gone to brush his teeth. The envelope, which he hadn’t even realized had disappeared, had been tucked down in between his neatly folded socks. He grabbed it, his toothbrush, and toothpaste, and had gone into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

And there they were.

He unfolded them, expecting to see nothing. After all, he’d thrown them at his dad the night before, and he figured that John, after calming down, had simply put them back in his bag, almost like a reminder of what he couldn’t have. But there it was at the bottom; his dad’s messy signature.

_John Winchester_.

He jammed them back in the envelope, brushed his teeth, then hurried outside where John was leaning against the Impala while Dean ran next door to get road snacks.

He had been so excited that he hadn’t thought about it, he had just gone up to John and hugged him. It was an odd thing to do, he realized that later, but he couldn’t believe it. When he pulled back and John looked at him in confusion, it still didn’t register.

“What’s up, kid?” He asked as he tried to avoid looking at the bruise spread across Sam’s cheek.

“I found those papers in my bag this morning…I didn’t think you were going to sign them. I really appreciate it, Dad.”

John’s confusion didn’t disappear. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. Sam hadn’t been sure what the look on his face was after that, at least not until now, but he could feel the smile on his own face falter.

“Yea. No, uh…no problem. I’m gonna go check on Dean. Wait here.”

And so he disappeared around the corner and towards the gas station, and Sam leaned back against the car, staring down at the letter in his hand. He was happy; a chance to get away from this life, maybe find a way for Dean to join him later, and make the world a better place doing something _normal_. He understood that the hunter life was important. Monsters were real, but there were other monsters out there, ones that didn’t require silver or holy water to kill, that needed off the streets. He wanted to make a difference, a _noticeable_ difference. He didn’t want revenge…he just wanted a life.

So, when Dean came back and he tried to tell him the exciting news, he was stopped short at the sight of Dean’s bloody lip.

“What happened?”

Dean shrugged, “Aww, nothin’. Some dick threw the gas station door open without looking and nailed me in the mouth.”

“Oh…”

Dean smiled, “Don’t worry about it. What’s got you all excited anyway?”

Sam held up the worn envelope and shook it, “Dad signed it! I didn’t think he’d do it, not after last night, but I found them this morning! I guess…I guess I’m going to school.”

If anyone but Sam had been watching, they would have missed the slight, involuntary flinch that was quickly covered by another smile, but he caught it. His excitement faltered, and his eyebrows knitted in concern. He’d thought Dean would be excited too. If Sam could get out and make it, Dean could join him. They could have a normal life together, somewhere far from all of this bullshit. It wasn’t just his ticket out…it was Dean’s too.

“Dean…”

“That’s great, Sammy! I figured he’d change his mind, you’re too smart to be doing stuff like this. You gotta go out there and change the world. Maybe even get recognized for it.” He clapped a hand to Sam’s shoulder, and then quietly climbed into the backseat.

“Aren’t you going to ride shotgun?”

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna take a nap for awhile, you can have it.” He shut the door just as John walked around the side of the building. Sam was confused, unsure of what was happening as John climbed into the driver seat without a word. Never even asked why Dean was in the back. Sam walked around the front of the car, paused at the door as he looked back at Dean, then hesitantly sat down. John barely waited for Sam to shut the door before he took off, spinning gravel into the hotel parking lot.

Then Sam looked at the side view mirror and managed to catch a glimpse of Dean, who had curled into himself in the backseat. His eyes were closed but even then, he was still grimacing. Sam could tell by the way he was holding himself that something more than a door to the lip had happened, but whatever it was, Dean would keep it to himself. He always did.

He looked down at the envelope in his hand, then back to John, and it was in that moment that everything fell into place. John hadn’t been the one to sign those papers, he didn’t want Sam to do what he really wanted to do. And if he didn’t do it, he’d sure as hell be pissed off at whoever did. Sam’s eyes landed back on the mirror, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat as he watched Dean gingerly shift against the bench seat.

He’d get them both out of this life, if it was the last thing he did.


End file.
